


les maudits mots d'amour

by incarnandine



Series: DGM Rarepair week 2017 [2]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Fugitives, Implied Sexual Content, Late at Night, M/M, Sensual Play, Sensuality, Sexual Tension, Sibling Incest, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 08:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12577856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incarnandine/pseuds/incarnandine
Summary: A soft, quiet Parisian evening on the run.(DGM Rare Pair Week Day 2: Black, Mysterious, Sophisticated, Powerful,Emptiness, Void,Darkness)





	les maudits mots d'amour

**Author's Note:**

> Second entry for the [D.gray-man Rare Pair week](https://dgrayrarepair.tumblr.com/) starting October 30th! I tried to experiment with the writing style a little to get a more sensual description without resorting to words relative to sight.
> 
> Prompts for day 2: Black, Mysterious, Sophisticated, Powerful, ~~Emptiness, Void,~~ Darkness
> 
> as always, you can find me over on [tumblr](http://incarnandine.tumblr.com)!

The mattress dips behind him, old wooden bedframe creaking as a solid weight sets on the edge; there is a hesitant moment of waiting - as if the sounds would quiet down - before the figure moves again, careful not to wake the other occupant of the bed.  
  
Mana smiles faintly and keeps his eyes closed; of _course_ he's not asleep.  
  
It's up to the other to find out.  
  
The shape behind his back cautiously nestles closer, bringing with him the crisp scent of cold night air and the contrasting warmth of a body. It's a welcome addition; the evenings are chillier at this time of the year, and runaways as they are, it wouldn't do to stay in expensive places all that often - so, this time, a little room on the highest story of an old building has to do. There's little more than a bed and a dresser in terms of furniture; it makes the room smell of old, lacquered wood and slightly wet stone of the walls.  
  
The covers lift; it's colder than Mana thought, bundled up in bed almost since sunset - then they fall again, encompassing both him and the warmth pressed to his back, easy to feel through the thin fabric of his shirt. A palm rests on his arm, just below the shoulder; full of gentle concern as it slowly rubs down, then up, then down again, long fingers seeking his own palm to tangle with. It stays for awhile-- then lets go, briefly, eliciting a shiver of anticipation - and yet, his eyes remain closed.  
  
_It's fine this way,_ his gestures seem to say.  
  
The fingers are back after a moment, softer now, more inquisitive; running idly along the inner length of his arm, they faintly graze a collarbone before moving up to his neck, brushing away stray strands of hair, leaving a pleasant ghost of a tingling for a few instants after they're gone.  
  
It almost tickles and yet doesn't; Mana bites his lower lip, trying to suppress a chuckle, face hidden into the pillow just enough to cover his smile.  
  
Two can play at this game, after all, and he's not easily beaten.  
  
Nea wraps a lock of hair around one of his fingers, as if curious; brushes it back again, playfully tangles and untangles the curls bringing them aside, up, out of the way; sighs contentedly, pressing his lips to the bared neck just below. He runs a fingertip along the shell of Mana's ear, brings it lower to the line of his jaw, traces the outline of his Adam's apple, and Mana keeps his breathing as even as he can, no matter how often his heart skips a beat in anxious waiting.  
  
The fingers slide up his chin again, tilt his head just slightly; a thumb traces the outline of his smile, lips parted just so - warms up in the soft cloud of his breath. It's gone right after, leaving him curious, expectant, _waiting_.  
  
It seems he's lost, after all; he stays like this for a moment - immobile - then reaches back to grab Nea's palm and slowly brings their entwined hands up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the other's fingers.  
  
Come _back_ , it pleads, wordless.  
  
Nea laughs softly and brings him closer, chin nestled atop Mana's tangled curls. He runs a thumb along the other's knuckles in a calming gesture and Mana huffs indignantly; trust Nea to tease him so, and then-- nothing.  
  
Tomorrow, Nea seems to say with his hands; just wait until morning, he hints, rubbing a thumb along the inside of Mana's wrist. He doesn't say a word: instead just hums a foreign melody - something that passed him on a street, probably - and stifles a yawn, slowly drifting to sleep.  
  
Mana finally opens his eyes and looks at flashes of street lamps distorted by the dirtied glass of the window; makes out the shapes of the city on the other side, the brightly illuminated church of Saint Paul at the right, the smaller lights of boats on the river deeper in the background; closes his eyes again with a content smile on his lips before sleep finally takes him as well, calm and safe.


End file.
